


Iustitia

by chloefantasista (chthonicfantasyyy)



Series: The Iustitia Series [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Demons, Fantasy, M/M, Mind Break, Overstimulation, Self-cest, Size Difference, Sounding, Sub Drop, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chthonicfantasyyy/pseuds/chloefantasista
Summary: It was shamefully gaudy, even for a demon, and Iustitia can feel himself winding up at the decadence of it, letting all that disapproval build up and up and up--Until he finally lets it out with a long even sigh.He wasn’t here to self-flagellate, not today, unfortunately.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: The Iustitia Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931224
Kudos: 13





	Iustitia

IUSTITIA: a major demon, yet one secretly worshipped for his sagacity and dogmatic commitment to both exacting justice and settling personal disputes.

_\--The Deus Records [outdated]_

***

The demon-god Iustitia was very much in need of a vacation. 

It wasn’t that he was getting tired with his work, quite the opposite-- he’d happily stay at the palace for as long as the god-eaters needed him-- but his previous life of sitting in the forest and waiting for the occasional traveller with a dispute was a lot different from becoming the universe’s highest legal authority.

It was different, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like it. 

He’d be happily working on revising the next of 27 alternative legal systems if his father and brothers hadn’t bodily removed him from Lacus Palace and sent him up to Mons Temple instead for some forced relaxation.

Well, Iustitia wasn’t going to turn down some alone time.

Even though he was in one of the two “master suites” in the temple reserved for gods like himself, the furnishings were still surprisingly sparse, a flat square mattress with no sheets, a colorful woven tapestry hanging above it, and a few ceramic jars in the corners with some incense, simple clothing, and non-perishable snacks.

The first thing Iustitia does is stumble over to the bad and collapse on top, melting into it with a sigh. Obviously, it wasn’t the world’s comfiest bed, but to Iustitia who had been sitting at his desk or on the bench for quite some time, it felt like…

Well, obviously “heaven” wasn’t the right word at all, but to an ascetic like Iustitia, it was wonderful nonetheless.

“Mmm.”

His low croaking groan rises in volume until it fills up the room, then he cuts it off abruptly, sitting in silence for a bit, before breaking into a fit of giggles and rolling onto his back.

Even just having the chance to goof off was nice, but he needed to get moving-- he had plans to sneak back into the palace within a day or so after all.

While Mons Temple was meant to be an acestic’s paradise, that meant nothing to a god, even to a promoted one. Iustitia of all people would never abuse this power, but it was convenient to be able to summon his divine headpiece with a snap of his fingers.

It was standard fare for a god of justice, but it was unique in that it was the only one of its kind in existence and it was custom made by the father of this new pantheon, the god of colors, Prifma.

The headdress was a testament to minimalism, made solely of simple thin iron rods and gold disks. A half-circle with a small gold disk on top and two short bars extending from the sides, hanging from which are two more gold disks.

Perhaps Iustitia was a little too proud of it, but there was no other part of him that really screamed divinity. He looked like almost any of the mortals running around on the floors below him, clad in only the simplest black sheath dress Prifma could begrudgingly bring himself to make while loudly complaining that it was very out of style.

No, the only things that set Iustitia off as different were his headdress, a part of his unofficial-official uniform, the simple yellow bracer on his upper arm, and a willingness to wear at least a yellow lip before he went out for the day.

The first two were necessary for his plans before going back, and the last was just a fun aesthetic choice.

Iustitia sits cross-legged on the bed, the headdress to his left and the bracer to his right as he meditates, slowly releasing a breath.

His brothers might call this needlessly-complicated self-indulgence, an overly-cerebral exercise in masturbation. Iustitia calls it “maintenance” and if they knew what was good for them, they would be doing it too.

Back in the day, the gods chose to kill demons rather than bind them. Both methods had their own pitfalls, but attempting to kill a demon would always be the worst option. Demons were the manifestation of intense emotion, and those emotions could come from anywhere-- the mortals, the animals, nature, the gods. When faced with such strength, even the gods had to gather in large numbers, each of them with retinues in the thousands, preparing for a grand war if only to possibly graze a single demon.

It was an unnecessary drain on resources when all one really needed was a bit of wordplay and the demon’s consent. Prifma was innovative in that regard.

While binding a demon was infinitely less taxing, it was fragile. If the demon no longer consented or the trickery that bound them lost its power, the demon was free to run wild again. 

Assuming that’s what the demon wanted.

Iustitia and his four brothers, even the more bloodthirsty of the lot, were unique in that regard. They were promoted gods, and, more importantly, they had consented to a promotion, meaning that they had consented to put their base urges on the shelf for the time being.

This ritual was meant to alleviate that.

It was a bit fun honestly. Most demons would never have a chance to summon themselves, and while, on the outside, Iustitia was solemnly chanting his own rites, on the inside he felt as giddy as a girl at a slumber party.

Around him, everything fades. The sound of his own voice fades from his hearing, the sensation of the bed under his thighs fades from beneath him, and the room around him fades into an inky black nothingness.

His voice gains an edge to it as he continues chanting.

In truth, he was conflicted. At this moment, he was in the Umbra, a sort of middle ground, and a place that no established demon wanted to return to. While Iustitia isn’t truly there and is only projecting his form into that space, he still feels crushed, packed tightly like the tiny fish in those little pies sold at his favorite stall in the market outside Lacus Palace.

One third is the newly-born demons, fresh and mewling and eager for sensation, any sensation at all. Iustitia feels an odd sense of kinship, is proud of them, yearns for and with them, wishes them all the best. 

Another third is the scum, the weaklings, demons who lack the power to manifest and are stuck fighting for scraps for kalpas and kalpas and kalpas. 

The final third is the disgraced, the once powerful, now temporarily demonted and stuck in between, but not for long-- they’ve risen above the rest of the crabs once and they’ll do it again and again and again, the cycle never ending.

Iustitia is glad to be free of it.

Finally, the bubble pops and Iustitia passes through safely to the other side, landing hard on his knees on a roiling sea of gold.

His vision swims as he slowly gets his bearings, that sea hardening into polished gold tiles with an unmoving geometric pattern. He rises to his feet slowly, giving himself the chance to get used to his new projected form in the space, slowly curling and extending his fingers one by one until everything sets just right.

Iustitia is a god, and yet he is small in this space, about half his normal size, and the space he is in is yet bigger still, a massive complex of pure gold and yellow, an endless hypostyle as far as the eye can see, branching out into all the libraries and courtrooms his demonic id could possibly desire.

It is his own space.

When demons manifested, they manifested bi-directionally, both ways out of the Umbra. They appeared in the Altum Plane, but only at a fraction-- to show up their entirety would be to rip the Altum Plane apart. The rest of their body resided in their personal realm in the Humilis, the true hell where established demons made their home.

He had made himself even smaller to properly serve Prifma and the god-eaters, and the rest of him resided here.

Of course, Iustitia being Iustitia, this meant nothing. Perhaps for his other brothers, entering a space like this would be chaos as they indulged their desires, but Iustitia’s desires extended no further than where the law ended.

He didn’t have to properly walk in his own realm; with one step he’s face to face with his other self.

The demonic version of his office is gold like everything else, with tiles that seem to extend infinitely out towards a hazy yellow horizon. The office didn’t appear to have any walls or a ceiling, and floating all around him were massive golden lily pads, moving slowly like clouds, each one topped with a library-sized pile of books that either had yet to be sorted into a proper library or were needed for on hand reference.

Just like he was only a few hours ago, his other self is behind a massive desk, almost completely obscured by piles and piles of paperwork.

It’s like looking at a reflection of himself, but bigger. The same deep obsidian skin, smooth and unscarred in a way that was uncharacteristic for a demon, gleaming yellow eyes that never failed to trap subjects in its gaze like a hawk staring at a mouse, full yellow lips because lip color was the only thing Iustitia bought at the market other than the fish pies, and a mass of perfect white ringlets, cascading down his back and over his shoulders.

Iustitia would never admit it aloud, but he was rather pleased by his own appearance.

The only difference was perhaps the clothing. It certainly was a higher quality than what Iustitia was wearing now-- a yellow gown with an intricate embroidered design and slits that went all the way up to his waist, a black corset, a pair of yellow leather thigh-high boots with shiny black tongues and toes, and, of course, his own treasured headdress.

Perhaps that was where his self-admiration fell short.

Iustitia finally understood how Prifma felt whenever he or his brothers found old designs in his sketchbook, though Prifma would probably prefer it if Iustitia dressed like this more often.

It was shamefully gaudy, even for a demon, and Iustitia can feel himself winding up at the decadence of it, letting all that disapproval build up and up and up--

Until he finally lets it out with a long even sigh.

He wasn’t here to self-flagellate, not today, unfortunately.

Iustitia was a demon. He was not here to impose harsh demands or judgements on himself. As much as he was loath to admit it, he too could be lured in by a brocaded fabric or shiny bauble--but, but! At the moment, he was on vacation, and if his base instincts told him to salivate, then he’d happily leave a puddle of drool on the floor.

His demonic self straightens up in his chair with a soft grunt as he dips his quill into the well at his hand, eyes never straying from the parchment in front of him.

“It’s not as if I hate to enjoy myself,” his larger self sighs.

“We simply like to do things on our own time,” Iustitia says, crawling beneath the desk so he’s between his own legs.

“Relaxation isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

Iustitia moves aside the front of his yellow gown, feeling a swell of pride at the sight of his own member between his legs. “You’re the only one who knows how to satisfy yourself after all.”

He punctuates his statement by sucking the head of his double’s cock into his mouth, and his double jolts in surprise, knocking his knee against the desk, before calming down and glancing down at himself beneath the desk.

Iustitia winks up at himself, mostly because it’s hard to grin with the head of a giant cock in his mouth.

His demonic self stares down at him coldly for a moment, then finally relaxes, his face breaking into a grin as he sets down his quill and leans back in his seat, resting one large hand atop his own double’s head.

His other self is...big. 

Obviously, at the moment his demonic self is double his height, but his cock is also big. Proportionally huge like the rest of him. The weight of his head is heavy on Iustitia’s tongue, slightly salty from the precum flooding his mouth, and solid, forcing his jaw open.

That alone was a feeling he could live for, a feeling only a demon could enjoy provided by a member only a demon’s anatomy could properly handle.

Plenty of little demons got sucked into the gravity of a more established demon’s realm, and plenty of little demons were caught and forced into endless back- and jaw-breaking servitude, but Iustitia was above that-- he had to be, it would go against his core desire-- and this wasn’t necessarily a loss. After all, he truly was the only one who knew how to satisfy himself.

And this was quite literal.

The Iustitia sitting on his knees underneath a desk was the same Iustitia sitting behind the desk getting serviced, so when Iustitia wrapped his lips around his larger double’s cock, he felt them wrapped around his own, and his larger double rolled his hips and thrust more of himself into Iustitia's mouth, he was giving his own mouth the same treatment...

Iustitia’s head was swimming already from the endless feedback loop, and chasing his own pleasure-- taking more cock into his mouth, bobbing his head, using his tongue, using his throat-- increased his double’s pleasure, which increased his own…

It was a delicate dance, one where the dancers had crashed through the window, fell into the shrubbery, and started humping like dogs.

Iustitia’s brain is melting out of his ears from the reflections of pleasure bouncing back and forth between him and his double, splitting and spreading out like an endless kaleidescope of pleasure, but apparently there’s still enough brain left for him to snarkily note that this is probably not what his family meant by giving his mind a break.

But he’s close though, close to orgasm, yes, he’s been teasing himself for what feels like forever, but also close to hitting that sweet spot in the mind break where he loops back to being a hazy sort of lucid. A bit like being high, but while also desperately wanting to be fucked and nothing else.

That was where fun began, really, where there weren’t any of the mental blocks in Iustitia’s mind that kept him from exploring himself.

And this time around, he had quite a few ideas.

There’s something both empowering and degrading about taking his own massive cock down to the hilt and swallowing load after load of his own cum, while coating the golden tiles beneath his knees with his own less substantial ones.

Iustitia exhales through his nose as he relaxes in the afterglow, shoulders sagging as his own cock and the cock in his mouth soften at their own pace.

“That’s all you have for me?” his id drawls, picking up one of Iustitia’s ringlets and letting it slip through his fingers.

Iustitia wraps a hand around the base of his cock and pulls it out of his mouth.

“Not quite. Pass me a pen.”

Laughter bubbles up from his more-demonic self like water boiling in a pot, but he snatches up a sleek black pen from his desk and passes it down to him anyway.

Their cocks stir in unison in anticipation for what’s to come, but Iustitia keeps his mind as clear as he can-- despite the fact that it’s completely addled by a feedback loop of lust-- to stave off a full erection for as long as he can.

Lube, while lacking at the moment, is not a problem. When a demon is in heat, the universe tends to just sort of...find a way to accommodate them. Particularly in this case, Iustitia was in his own realm, so the physical surroundings, including the limits of his own body, warped to meet his desires..

After just a few moments of rolling his saliva around in his mouth, it thickens up into a substance that’s close enough to suit his needs.

With one hand, he pushes down on his double’s cockhead, spreading his urethra open with two fingers as he dips his head down and licks up the slit, the tip of his tongue dipping in just slightly as he spreads the makeshift lube.

Once they’re both satisfied, Iustitia slides the pen into his mouth next. It goes in easy, and he tilts his head to the side so his id can watch the length of it go down into his throat and he’s rewarded with a new wash of lust as it comes back up coated in lube.

“Ready?” Iustitia asks.

“Are you?”

Iustitia chuckles and focuses on the task at hand, lining up the end of the pen with his double’s urethra.

Both of them moan softly as it breaches the slit.

For his id, the edge of the pen was physically there, wedging his urethra open and slowly sliding in deeper, aided by the lubricant. For Iustitia, it wasn’t there at all, and yet his body reacted the same, his urethra slowly splitting and the pressure mounting, as if something invisible was slowly making its way in.

It took quite a bit of self control to remain calm, to remain somewhat unaroused so that the channel was loose enough for the pen to slide in, but Iustitia was nothing if not controlled.

As he slowly guides the pen in deeper, not a word passes between them, just moans and gasps. They didn’t need to speak, much in the same way that their pleasure was linked, so too was their discomfort, but practice alone made sure the two of them hardly felt any of that at all.

It doesn’t quite go as deep as Iustitia wants, as deep as he has gone before, but that’s what happens when his family kicks him out of the palace before giving him a chance to pack his things. He had to improvise, and improvising meant stopping just before the cap of the pen, unfortunately.

Still, it would be enough. The pen had a mechanism to keep the cap from slipping off, so it would comfortably stay in place within his slit. Even still, Iustitia handles himself delicately as he lets go of the end of the pen, and then his double’s cock, allowing it to swell into a full erection just as his own does the same.

“I can’t bear it any longer,” his id groans, as Iustitia carefully adjusts the cloying fabric of his own dress so that his cock is exposed to the slightly warm air of the office.

Once that’s settled, he’s back to work on his other self. With the pen in, everything is so much more sensitive-- a few featherlight touches along the sides and some kisses up the shaft and his id is already squirming in his chair, and beneath the desk Iustitia feels every bit of that same pleasure thrumming up his own spine.

His id lifts his hips, desperately seeking out more of what Iustitia has to offer himself, and Iustitia takes hold of the pen again, gently twisting it back and forth so it rotates inside him.

He bites his lip, stifling his own cries as his double moans loud enough to echo out to the horizon of his office, pausing his movements as the new sensation makes them both see white.

“Again,” his other self moans.

“Again?” Iustitia echoes, a smile playing on his lips.

“ _More_ ,” his other self whines, his usual sense of decorum fallen by the wayside in the wake of this new pleasure.

Iustitia chuckles but readily complies, gently coaxing the pen out before letting it sink back in, slowly reopening his channel again and again and again.

Between each thrust, so to speak, Iustitia had to stop and gather himself, grab a life raft and pull himself out of a shared sea of pleasure. It couldn’t be helped-- it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back all the sweet little sounds he was making, and, more importantly, he was startlingly aware of the fact that he was making such embarrassing noises, moaning louder than he’d ever allow himself to if he were fully lucid, but that moment was quickly fading, replaced by another in which he was making such sounds and _didn’t care._

His id on the other hand, was in the opposite predicament. In the Altum plane, Iustitia could take a break from his work whenever he pleased for a quick masturbation session.

(And he knew for a fact that the god-eaters would be more than curious if he decided to do that during a public hearing.)

In his realm however, Iustitia’s base desire was at its peak. His core need was to do justice, to instill bureaucracy. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t feel sexual desire, it just wasn’t his _base_ desire. He wanted to do paperwork so he would do paperwork, and as he was doing that paperwork he would feel aroused--not to have sex-- but _to do more paperwork_ , so he’d stop the paperwork he was doing to take a break and do paperwork to eliminate his arousal before going back and satisfying his base desire to do paperwork. It wasn’t that he couldn’t feel sexual pleasure-- he just _hadn’t_.

So in these rare moments, when Iustitia felt cheeky enough to slide under his own desk and satisfy his own grandiose sense of self, it was a pleasure unlike any he’d ever experienced. Feeling lips on his cock was new and refreshing and innovative and having a pen spreading him open was just the same.

His tolerance was low, and he had gone over the point of no return from the moment Iustitia waltzed in and put his dick in his mouth.

So at the moment, his id could barely contain himself.

All of his former austere composure is gone, replaced with someone who could barely hold back his reactions. Tears were streaming down his face and both hands were clamped down over his mouth to keep himself from screaming, no doubt worried that the demons in other realms might be able to hear him, all of his nervous energy transferred into the tips of his toes, his right heel tapping rapidly on the tile, but not hard enough to jostle the pen in his cock.

It was, in a word, intoxicating.

Iustitia could have chosen not to do anything, could have just left himself like that, could have left his id to whether the highs and lows wrought by his own inexperience-- but when Iustitia was away from his desk like this, he couldn’t help but take things just a bit too far.

It’s clumsy, from the way he grabs his double’s cock to the awkward way he sets his mouth at the junction of urethra and pen barrel, but a short hum is all it takes to set the pen vibrating and both of them over the edge.

***

In the moment, having a dual orgasm seemed like a great idea, but a few hours later and Iustitia regrets it very much.

He pulled out the pen at the last possible moment before coming, at the last possible moment before he hurled himself back to the Altum plane.

And once again, he lands _hard_ on his knees on the thin mattress, cums so hard it’s electric, quite literally like being hit by lightning and then some, the last lingering effect of connecting so intimately with his id. In the moment after, he falls forward onto his face, his ability to stay conscious having completely checked out for the time being.

Iustitia awakes tightly gripping the pen taken from his realm. The one he shoved up his own dick the night previous. No doubt it was a gift from another demon in Humilis, probably an expensive one, but Iustitia had no intention of returning it until he stopped feeling like shit.

Having two orgasms last night was great, obviously, but he had cum so hard then that his balls hurt this morning, and, on top of that, there was a substantial amount of half-dried semen covering his mattress and the front of his dress.

Fabulous.

Oh, to be his other self who merely had to clean the tiles beneath his feet.

Though perhaps not. That was the problem with domming one’s self, the (sub)conscious dropped and that drop went all the way up to the top.

On top of his balls hurting, Iustitia felt completely hollowed out and empty, fatigue and weariness had settled deep into his muscles, his head was pounding louder than festival drums, and he immediately regrets getting up and opening the door to the balcony, his hand immediately going to shield his eyes from the light.

Afternoon had no business being this bright, but in the light of the day, Iustitia feels old habits return to him. He needed them to stave off the worst of the sub-drop, to get his mind back in order in time for his daring escape back to the comfort of his office.

Where there once was over-indulgence, there now needed to be restraint. His clothes needed to be changed and scrubbed, he needed something substantial to eat, the mattress needed to be washed and beaten and dried, that pen needed to be disinfected, he needed to put his bracer and headdress back on to keep his manifestation in this world in check and most importantly--

Iustitia yawns as he takes the few steps up to the balcony’s wooden railing, pulling his dress up like its second nature and aiming for the dense foliage on that side of Mons Temple. 

He winces at the sting, then just sighs and lets the sensation wash over him like gravel. Iustitia knew the god-eaters with...similar inclinations enjoyed the slightly painful bathroom breaks that came with a sounding session, but he was not one of them. 

Either way, stinging piss for the next few bathroom breaks or so felt like a fitting consequence for letting this forced vacation go to his head so quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter @chloefantasista to see stuff early and to tell me how you ~feel~.


End file.
